Calypso's Cliffs
by silvercherriz
Summary: To the world she was no more than Cherise DeFalais, a simple fisherman's daughter, but to a certain Jack Sparrow she was also the key to freedom from the devil of the seas. Yet how far will Jack push fate when Cherise becomes its playing card? [JackOC]
1. Pebbles

**Author's Note:** 'Ello poppet. Er... reader. : I'm gonna be writing this story with my friend DA. Did you hear that? This story is a collaboration with another author. Therefore, I disclaim every odd-numbered chapter, starting with this first one, though we will work together on most of them. Note that this story is going to go into many genres. Romance, adventure, suspense, a little bit of fantasy, mystery, action, and Jack Sparrow. I think he should get his own genre, don't you:D And please read the rest of the technical stuff before starting. Otherwise, enjoy our collaboration.

Your writers, SC and DA.

**Rating:** T (PG-13) for a little bit of violence, a few adult themes, and mild language. And lots and lots of pirates. :D

**Disclaimer:** Neither I nor DA own Pirates of the Caribbean, its characters, the song played by Davy Jones' locket which will be used in this story, or anything else that Disney thought up. (Because, I mean, if we owned Jack Sparrow... :D (If we owned Jack Sparrow, we probably woulnd't be here. Not that we don't love you - DA))

**Chapter 1: Pebbles**

Port-Au-Prince of Haiti always bustled with activity that dusk could not diminish. The chatter and the crowds left the marketplaces that slowly began to clear, and moved instead to the taverns and bars. Night was slowly taking the town's reigns from the lavish Caribbean sun and driving it into a whirlwind of flamboyant festives, rum, and, of course, the ladies.

A young woman of about twenty gathered up unsold fish into her basket and turned to face the ocean. The sun's light gently colored the sea and skies in gold hues, making the salty water look like precious molten metal. Magnificent purples and oranges lined the clouds around the sun's resting place. The last rays of sunlight settled on the mountains, the town below already immersed in dots of oil lamps. She chuckled as the cool ocean-scented wind from the gulf brushed her cheek, played with stray strands of her dark brown hair, and carried her name to her ears.

"…– _Cherise_ –… "

Wait, her name?

She turned, but found no one who might've been addressing her. Nobody was looking her way, nor was nearby. The closest groups of people were either rather conscious early drunks near the taverns, or the ones self-nominated to be drunk later, and with those purposes heading into taverns. The marketplace was already empty, and save for the retreating sun, dark.

Frowning, she picked up the basket and turned to leave. The occurrence forgotten, a smile graced her lips as she thought of her father's delight when she'd give him the earnings. Then she would prepare the dinner and they'd sit together, maybe even on the beach to watch the first stars, and he'd tell her stories about ocean gods and sea nymphs. She would close her eyes and see it all clearly, as if she were really there in their company, dancing and playing with the nymphs, perhaps even being one of them. And the ocean god would watch over them all, and there'd be no worries as to what the next day will bring. It would be an adventure, thrilling and captivating, and she would give it her all, always. And he would tell her of pirates, the sea as their treasure and their curse. Cherise found those stories very exciting, despite her father's rather unfavorable attitude towards them.

But she would open her eyes and see herself on the beach, and throw the ocean a silly smile. She was in her place, a pebble in the creek, exactly where the water carried it. And water, so vast and deep, seemed wise in its actions. After all, it was giving them all life, bringing them the trade and the food, and the grandiose sunsets and sunrises every day. That was her life, and she accepted it with both humility and pride.

And that all would've been well and good, had she not turned and found herself staring at someone's chest, clad in cotton and leather-strapped.

"'Ello dearie!"

She turned her face upward to look at the man. Her eyes widened at his odd appearance – kohl-rimmed eyes, a sneaky grin that revealed a couple of gold teeth (what happened so that they'd be replacing the real ones?), hair hopelessly, and perhaps, intentionally, tangled with an unfathomably arbitrary choice of trinkets (as if he raided a grandmere's chest…) – and really, speaking of raiding and unorthodox appearances, topped off with a pistol and a cutlass…

Cherise turned on her heels, and keeping her horrified countenance, hurried to leave. How could his kind even dare venture to the port with the militia concentrated here in such numbers?

Another man barred her way, also a pirate, she noted, but less…flashily attired.

"Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, Miss, and I assure you that this is a matter of utmost delicacy and unprecedented importance," the first pirate said, accentuating random words with the gesticulations of his other arm, the first already gripping her forearm, "with which we ought to deal in the most rapid manner before impeding doom in the form of guns, rapiers, nooses and distasteful hats might come upon us, so I'd appreciate if your most valued reason, mind, and body would grace us with your presence on the ship."

Cherise stared at him for a while, before giving him a squinted death glare. "…What?"

He sighed in annoyance, tilting his head to the side. Snapping his eyes back to her, he explained, "You." He pointed at her. Then he made a walking gesture with two fingers. "Walk. Ship." Here he bent his torso and straightening, flamboyantly extended his arm with the hand slightly cupped. "Shoooo!" He grinned, clearly expecting complete understanding in return for his efforts. Cherise raised her brow and tried to free herself from the maniac.

The pirate behind her started jittering impatiently. "Cap'tain, I dun reckon we've got time to negotiate in any sort! She'd go and cause a commotion!"

"Ah!" The "Cap'tain" raised his index finger and matter-of-factly exclaimed, his dark eyes looking somewhere past her. "Too late." At that, Cherise tore her eyes away from him for just a second, and the last sounds she heard before her mind dove into darkness were the sounds of many approaching feet and someone's regretful protest.

Some time later – she couldn't quite place how much later – she woke and found herself in a dark place. She felt that she was lying on something, perhaps even a bed, for it was soft; she also felt that wherever she was, it was rocking. Like a ship.

_Did I fall asleep on my father's boat? If so, how did I get here? I don't remember going home…_

_...Ow._

The throbbing pain on her head reminded her very well about the events that took place that evening.

"Oh no! No!"

She quickly rolled over to her side and then noticed a small window. Right before she tumbled off the bed, that is, henceforth also noting the location of the floor. She scrambled to get up in the dark, and finally managed to do so, stumbling to the window. Her hopes weren't confirmed, for Cherise saw no land outside, just the vast waters and the stars sprinkling the sky. The thoughts of this boat being definitely not the preferred location of the evening, her father going frantic by now, and the man, who was responsible for the aforementioned inconveniences, still walking and even breathing jittered in her mind. She heard her heartbeat quicken. Oh God, where was she? Why have they taken her? What could she do? …Fight?

Cherise growled, kicked out, and indeed hit a wall. After a few more times, she moved along the wall with her fists to disperse her anger, hoping for a solution to reward her distraught efforts. Frenetically pounding on anything that would get in the way of her hands in the gloom, Cherise felt a couple of uncontrollable distraught sobs escape her throat.

Finally, she felt her hands go numb, and she slid down, her nails leaving a few trails on the wall of the dark cabin. What to do? She couldn't just waltz out of there. Well, she could, it just wouldn't be the wisest choice she would be making in her soon-to-be-short life. What if they were waiting right outside? They were pirates. Take what you can, give nothing back, right? And she couldn't very well just get home. Her skills at maintaining and navigating such vessels were just a tad below a directionless voyage. Or, well, a successful one.

Truly, she was a small speck on Earth, a little pebble amidst rushing water.

Cherise shakily felt her way to the bed and slumped onto it. Her fingers found a pillow, it seemed to her, and she buried her face into it and futilely struggled not to cry. Would the water carry her to her place, yet again? Tired and frustrated, she soon gave in to uneasy sleep.

Just let the morning bring what it will…

The Black Pearl's sails filled with wind.


	2. Hide the Cutlery

**Chapter 2: Hide the Cutlery**

Jack Sparrow carefully made his way along the deck and knocked briefly before allowing himself into Cherise's cabin. "Mornin' luv, I thought you'd be in 'ere," he chuckled, remembering full well her disgust at being locked in the cabin.

_SMASH. _A cup narrowly missed his nose and shattered against the wall.

"Bloody pirate! Indecent, DISGUSTING—"

Still eyeing the cup as if it were an anomalous intruder on the morning's peace, he muttered, "Aye, you're not still mad are you?"

_SMASH._

"MANIPULATIVE, INSUFFERABLE BUFFOON! IGNORANT—"

Jack fled from the cabin and shut the door behind himself just in time to barely avoid another piece of tableware. He stood with his back against the entrance for a moment while his mind caught up with him. "Come now, can't we" –_SMASH_– "talk about this, luv?"

"GO TO HELL, JACK SPARROW!"

"...Captain. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow." He corrected mechanically. Deciding it would be better, and considerably less painful, to give her a little space, he walked briskly to the other end of the ship to check on the crew. After all, she had to get hungry and want to come out sometime, right?

By dinnertime, the waves rose slightly as a careful wind drove them ahead. Jack fumbled with his compass absent-mindedly, overlooking the sea from the Captain's post. What if she refused to eat? Ah, but he had the cure for that, he assured himself. It would be a shame, her starving to death, though it would save everyone a trip to Tortuga to stock up on cutlery. He admired her fiery disposition, the makings of a real pirate, but couldn't help hoping she would stop throwing things. How many plates did she think they had on this ship? Such a waste. He put the compass away. "Gibbs! Barrow!"

Two pairs of rushing feet emerged behind him. "Aye, Capt'n?"

"Bring Cherise to the... dinner... place... thing." He waved his hands to make up for the word.

"Aye. But wou' tha' be a good idea?"

Jack frowned. "Are you saying, mate, that I have bad ideas? Have they ever gotten you in trouble before? ...Don't answer that."

Gibbs shifted his weight to the other foot uneasily. "Well, firs' of all, she would demolish dem plates. And 'en dere's de crew who woun't mind punishin' 'er for it..."

Jack thought for a moment. "You're right. Bring her to my cabin instead!"

Barrow and Gibbs exchanged glances.

"Well, get to it, lads!"

"Right, Captain!" Recognizing a bad time to ask questions, they scurried away.

Meanwhile, Jack strolled calmly into his cabin and sat down behind his desk to finish a letter he'd started writing earlier. The quill moved freely in his hand, making bold ebony curves and dashes on the bleak yellow parchment. Dip, stroke, dot. Contrast. An invasion of meaning. The candles' flame quivered, quick to hide from the sea breeze that flew in through the open window and spread around the smell of the food. Tonight's cook had prepared a small banquet for them upon the captain's request. Food, after all, made people happy, and Jack was silently pleading it would pacify, if only just a little, the livid damsel about to be shoved into his cabin. His hand subconsciously rose to his cheek; he knew all too well the phrase "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

In a few minutes Cherise was brought in, struggling and yelling, of course. The two pirates pushed her inside and shut the door behind her just as she turned around to bang on it in anger. After a few blows her hands were throbbing with pain. With one last assuaging thump, she gave up and turned around, glaring at Jack as he put the pen and paper away.

"Evenin', luv." He motioned to the chair across from him. The desk, or table, was covered with different plates (metal ones, Cherise noted) and on them was a feast fit for a queen. Exotic fruits, fresh roasted fowl, wine and all kinds of things she couldn't identify. She tore herself away from the sight to scowl at her company.

"Sit." He said more commandingly. "You haven't eaten a bite since yesterday and we can't have you dying of hunger on this ship."

"I would rather die a thousand deaths than dine with a filthy creature like you!"

He sighed. "Now, was that really necessary?" Cherise didn't budge. Jack furrowed his brows. "Lass, you'd best sit down before I have to get up and make ye..."

"Hmph!" She hesitated for a moment, but decided the better of it and lowered herself to the chair, chin held high in defiance.

"Rum?" Without waiting for an answer, he poured her a glass.

"No."

"Very well, suit yourself. You have to eat something." He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the corner of the table, as if to say 'I'll wait here all night if I have to.'

"No!"

A strange smile crossed his lips. "Oh? Well, what if I offer you..." he took out a small tray with a few brown cubes on it, "..._chocolate._"

Her eyes widened. Chocolate? That was rare indeed; she'd only had it once as a child, and what a delightful treat it was. Jack saw her expression and his smile widened into a grin. Worked like a charm. He swayed the tray from side to side before her nose for effect while she tried desperately to turn away.

"Fine." She finally muttered and grabbed the tray. "You have my attention."

"That's better, lass." He took a swig of rum. "Now, you are probably wondering why I have, eh... _invited_ you to join me on this here ship."

She looked up momentarily from her plate to give him a look. "You hit me over the head and dragged me here against my will! And do not make the mistake of thinking I will hesitate to run once the chance arises."

"Technically, _I_ did no such thing. But regardless, if you'd like to leave now..." his eyes wandered to the window overlooking the sea.

She followed his gaze, annoyed. True, she had nowhere to go, they were in the middle of an ocean. "Very well. Why _did_ you, so to say, 'invite' me to journey with you to who-knows-where?"

"Ah. You see..." He took another swig of rum and was silent for a moment. "Tell me, luv, do you miss your family?"

"I am an orphan, I never knew my parents. I was found abandoned as a baby on a beach and picked up by a fisherman who became my father. But yes, I miss him, thanks to _you._" Her large sea-colored eyes seemed to cloud over with an overwhelming emotion, but only for a split second. She blinked and it was gone.

"Mmm..." Jack nodded and sat in silence for a few long minutes, his own eyes narrowed in thought.

Cherise finally ran out of patience and cleared her throat. "And my reason for being on this ship, Captain?"

He looked up. Dropping his feet and placing his elbows on the table, he pressed his fingertips together, gesturing. "Let's just say... in time you will be of use to me." His eyes glinted furtively, enticing her curiosity.

She dropped her fork, fire returning to her gaze. "Excuse me!"

He sat back and rolled his eyes. Why did everybody always assume the worst of his words? Oh, that's right. "Look, dearie, I know you find me devastatingly attractive and remarkably suave," he momentarily stopped to pose, swaying a little, "but really now, if I wanted to take advantage of you, don't you think I would've done it already? Do lighten up a little." He motioned conclusively to the table between them, having made his point.

She turned away to hide the subtle rosy hue of her cheeks, secretly mortified of her misinterpretation, but obeyed the captain for the first time. For a few minutes, they both ate in silence. However, curiosity at last overpowered indignant humility, and Cherise wiped her mouth with a napkin. "You wouldn't by any chance happen to be the same Jack Sparrow who was involved in the strange affairs of Port Royal about a year ago?"

"The one and only, luv."

Her eyes brightened. The flame of interest had been ignited once again. "Then you know all about the Isla de Muerta and the curse of the Aztec gold?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What I'd like to know is why _you_ do."

"I don't, really, they're just stories my father used to tell me... Stories about an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is, which really doesn't make any sense if you think about it because somebody had to have found the island in the first place, or else it would still be a mystery, right? But how could they have found it if it cannot be found?" Jack rolled his eyes as Cherise continued, oblivious. "And stories of cursed gold that turned people into monsters that were neither dead nor alive, condemned to wander the earth forever unsatisfied. Of course, they're just stories." She laughed, but upon noticing Jack's piercing stare, her laugh subsided. "...They're not... _real_, are they?"

"As a matter of fact, everything you have just said is indisputably true." Jack once again sat forward.

"But how can th—"

"Moreover, the royal navy _did_ indeed fight with a crew of undead pirates under the command of Captain Barbossa and aye, they were skeletons in the moonlight's glow. Before you ask." He sat back.

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "But... but wouldn't stories like that be kept with the utmost secrecy, not be told as tall tales all over the globe?"

"Unless no one would believe them." He grinned, demonstrating a few gold teeth.

Cherise couldn't help smiling, but remembered she was supposed to be angry and frowned. "Very well, Captain. My gratitude for dinner, which I am sure you will extend to the cook. And now I suppose I must retire to my cabin, which I will be locked into again, no doubt."

"Your cabin wasn't locked last night."

_"What!"_

"You cabin wasn't locked."

Cherise's hands curled into fists on her hips.

"But like you said, of what use would it be to you to leave it?"

She let out an angry puff which ruffled her bangs. "Fine."

He chuckled, getting up, and performed a somewhat uncoordinated curtsy, his arms swaying in either direction. "Allow me to escort you to your cabin, darlin'."

Reluctantly, she took his arm, clandestinely relieved that she wouldn't have to walk outside and deal with the crew alone. Now if she could just deal with herself for the meanwhile...


	3. Games and Songs

**Chapter 3: Games and Songs**

Waves beat against the ship's side, spraying seawater in Cherise's face. Half an hour in her cabin proved to be uneventful, boring, uninteresting, monotonous, and many other adjectives she had time to come up with, so she soon carefully exited it, arriving thus on the main deck. She's gotten quite a few stares from the pirates at first, but no one bothered enough to approach, question, or shove her back into her cabin, so Cherise decided to remain there. They soon lost interest in the young woman, which provided her with just enough freedom to somewhat satisfy her curiosity in peace. Jack seemed too busy being infatuated with his boat – ship – to really mind as she cautiously strolled on the Pearl.

The pirates, overall, defied her expectations. It was even somewhat irritating. The stories she's been told left out the major methods of spending time, really – adjusting the sails, cooking, coiling lines, general housekeeping…or bo...ship-keeping. She even let a slight smile cross her face – they almost seemed like good, honest sailors!

Cherise stopped at the thought. Oh, so they kidnap you, injure you, and plan to use you – good, honest sailors, no doubt! What do they need to do to you before you recognize them for what they are, feed you to the sharks or other sea life of their preference?

And yet she could recognize the all-too-familiar motions of tightening the lines, and swabbing the decks. She watched her father do it so many times; Cherise did it herself plenty. What, really, was the difference, aside from the unconventional collection of what they desired?

It's all the difference in the world. Stop thinking like this. Your fa-

"Miss Cherise? If ye've got nothing t' do, ye'r more than welcome to help me down with th' grub."

She jumped at the voice, but managed to regain her posture and turn. Judging from his comparatively cleaner appearance, this was the cook. He was middle-aged, with skin that was probably white at some point, bald, but with bushy eyebrows and earnest eyes. Reason told her to decline, and remove her person from the deck altogether, barricade herself in the cabin and recite Hail Mary's that she was not yet dead. Cherise's upbringing, however, did not provide her with the option of refusal where help was requested, and before reason really had a say in anything, she found herself accepting the invitation.

To please reason (which actually had no say in anything as of late, she noted), she mentally kicked herself all the way down to the kitchens.

But the common task of food preparation rejuvenated her, and she found herself in a light mood, joking with the pirate. Perhaps it was an island of sanity for her, a ground to stand on in the generally ridiculous turn of events. Her marketplace-taught voluble manner of speaking slowly returned after a day of reticence. As they waited for the "grub" to boil, they kept talking, and she couldn't believe how easy it was to simply communicate with him. After a bit of a break on the conversation, Martin – for that was his name, she learned – spoke.

"Don't ye be mad at our Cap'tain Jack, lass. 'e's doing what's best for everyone..."

Cherise stared at him, quiescent.

Martin continued, "Mostly." She raised a brow. "…Almost entirely." He continued attempting to salvage whatever point he was failing to make, eyes searching something on the wall. "…Overall."

Cherise pitifully smiled and decided to relieve the man of the tedious task of making points. "Your grub seems to be boiling, sir."

He sprung up, uneasily. "Me grub's boiling, thanks lass!" Cherise, though, allowed herself to truly smile as she began setting up the plates, faintly wondering why and how she missed them earlier, and whether it would be a good idea to fix that little oversight.

As men were settling down in the galley, Cherise grabbed a plate with some food and and went up to the main deck. Jack was no longer at the wheel – she speculated he either went with the crew or was spending quality time with maps and rum in his cabin. Feeling a little freer, she perched up on one of the crates, and ate in the lamplight, plate in her lap. The evening breeze conveniently blew her hair from her face (for once). Cherise's eyes found comfort in the deep, dark vastness of the ocean; the rocking of the ship calmed her. Absent-mindedly, she began humming to herself.

"Nice tune yer' spinnin there, miss."

Cherise turned to find a pirate grinning at her.

"Tell me, kind sir, is it in the pirate rules to keep sneaking up on people? Because I don't think I've encountered any of you yet in another manner."

He gave a hearty laugh, gold glinting in his mouth. "Depends. We're rarely expected-like. Wouldn't make them good pirates if we were, eh?"

Cherise considered. "True..."

"Hey, you're the 'un who helped Martin with the food t'night, right?" She smiled and nodded, remembering the little bickering she initiated over the amounts of spices. "Thanks, lass, it was much better! Never knew ya could get the flavor outta that stuff. Lord knows Marty never could." He laughed again, clapping her on the back. But what was meant as a friendly gesture pretty much propelled her off the crate; it was evident that pirates didn't deal with the other half of the world's population enough.

"'Ey Glim! Don't you kill 'er just yet, what are we gonna eat?" another pirate ran over and yelled, raising hands at the first. The first – apparently, Glim – seemed rather flabbergasted at the lightness of her body, but tried to defend himself nevertheless. Lying on the ground and having two pirates tiff over her, Cherise suddenly found the situation extremely funny. Their confusion over her small giggling and shaking mass further fueled her laughing fit, until they themselves joined in. She was soon hauled up and pushed over to a circle of men playing a game under the lamplight. She found some amused stares, some respecting ones, and a few hidden scowls, but nothing rivaled her surprise at their game.

"Liar's dice!"

"Aye. You know it?"

"I used to play it all the time as a child!" Cherise paused at their looks. "No offense." Some laughed.

Glim gestured to a spot beside him. "Want t' join then?"

"But I have nothing to wager."

"Ah, sit yer down. We'll think of somethin'."

Jack returned to the deck, cradling a rum bottle. But before he made it to his cabin, jeers and hoots coming from a circle of his men captured his attention. He leaned back and squinted to see what the commotion was about, and raised a brow when he took in the scene. Cherise had her hand on a cup, and was staring piercingly at Fetter, who returning a stare, albeit a more worried one. Only problem was, Cherise already had someone's bandanna and a string of beads on her neck that was clearly not hers before. Jack directed his gaze to the side, briefly considering an intervention, but thought better of it and disappeared into his cabin. The situation was intriguing enough as it was – a woman aboard, winning at their own games. Gibbs must be considering voodoo by now.

Half an hour or so later, Jack was drawn to the deck yet again by the shouts and laughter, which definitely increased. He cracked open the door with the back of his hand and saw Fetter with a crowd behind him…looking up at the crow's nest. So did Jack. The doorframe allowed his sight only the view of the hem of a light blue-violet cloth tauntingly linger on the netting; then it disappeared upwards.

"…Oh bugger."

Cherise was more than halfway up when she felt that her muscles weren't taking the climb too well. Wind tousled her hair rougher than down on the deck, and she found it hard to see, not to mention enduring the chill. She threaded one arm through the netting to steady herself, and wiped her palms on her dress. Females really shouldn't sweat, it's unbecoming. Her fingers were already aching due to the unfamiliar movements, and Cherise found breathing harder and harder. She looked at them to check for bruises; luckily, there were none yet…oh, but the ground seemed so far away now…She tightened her grip.

"COME DOWN THIS INSTANT, MISS DEFALOIS!"

"Jack?"

True enough, he was standing with the hooting crowd; his tricon hat and glinting trinkets made him hard to miss. He said something to Fetter, and they seemed to argue for a while – well Jack was probably questioning Fetter's birth, or so it seemed from his wild hand movements and Fetter was trying to defend himself. Probably a lost cause there, Cherise thought, and turned her attention to the crow's nest. Okay, if I just gather all my strength…I can do this.

"…-to allow her such…CHERISE, STAY RIGHT THERE!"

"MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" she hollered back.

Cat-like, Jack easily covered a few meters of the netting before she even felt the netting shake. Just as she was about to reach for the next rope, a hand covered hers, something she would've considered affectionate had it not happened very high above ground, and in a rather safety-compromising situation. She looked at him; Jack's deep chocolate eyes betrayed his tanned face and showed hints of amusement, as much as he tried to keep his countenance neutral and a little bit condescending. Cherise suddenly felt warmer, as if the pirate radiated the heat of the very sun.

"We're coming down now, dearie, and you're staying down."

Quickly finding her scattered wits, she retorted.

"…No!"

"…No?"

"I have to reach up there," she pointed up helpfully, her hand escaping his. Jack withdrew his hand as well, giving it a hardy noticeable, curious glance before placing it as his hip.

"Bloody hell, luv, if you truly want your spectacular view, had you not the wits to try in daylight?"

Cherise looked at his patronizing smile for a second, confused. "Oooh, it's not for the view," she smiled. "I lost. This was the wager."

Jack looked thoughtful for a few moments. "…Yes, we're coming down right now."

"But I have to…"

"Why?" he demanded with sudden fire in his eyes, the wind disarraying his hair, making it fly about his face chaotically. He looked almost supernatural, exotic, against the dark, star-laden sky and the Pearl's palpitating black sails. "You've neither the strength nor the fortitude to make it! Now I'm sure my crew will gladly think of something that will keep your limbs intact, luv", he said, patting her back. His hand had none of the brute force of Glim, but it stayed firmly on her back, almost supporting her. She felt his body heat through the fabric of her dress, and wondered how he got so close. It was almost…comforting.

Looking right into his dark eyes, she spoke, "I agreed to it! Promised. Whenever I give my word, I keep it, Captain."

His expression softened. Apprehensively, Cherise stopped minding her grip. What will he…

Jack, seizing the moment, wrenched her from the netting. She shrieked as her hands left the ropes, and grabbed out for anything – or anyone - that would prevent her fall. With an arm firmly around her waist, Jack positioned her away from the netting, so that the only thing she could hold on to was him. When he felt her arms grip his waist – a little bit tighter than necessary, he found himself thinking, - he carefully made their descent. It was a little bit harder, but his movements, even if they were slower, never lost their fluid felinity and his grip was never uncertain. He silently thanked the deities that Cherise never made it to the very top, or this would've taken even longer. He peered at her tense form and allowed himself a smile. If only you've seen the chary flames in ye presented me with in your eyes, lass. But she didn't see the smile. In fact, Cherise kept her eyes closed the whole way down. When she felt her feet touch the boards of the deck, she immediately opened her eyes and pushed Jack away. The crew, still crowding around the mast, fell silent.

He sighed. "Admirable, dearie, very admirable. A sure way to the heavens." He brought his face near to hers, so that she could feel his breath. "Sure and quick. Now do me a favor and don't engage in activities that would result in dead bodies mucking up me deck, savvy?" And again, with a pat on the back, he disappeared into his cabin.

Some time later, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, the games had ceased and most of the crew was asleep. Cherise propped her elbows against the sturdy wooden railing of the Black Pearl and gazed out to the calm sea. Serene waves, rising and falling, constant and unpredictable.

'What lies beyond the surface?' she mused. 'Are there mermaids, singing their longing songs to the moonlight? Dreadful sea monsters, lying satisfied in their caves from tonight's dinner? Unspeakable treasure, long lost and forgotten... What wonders hide in these depths?'

She sighed and began to hum a gentle melody she knew from long ago, as if from a dream. Quietly it spilled over the waves and melted with the moon's reflection, carrying to the horizon. Suddenly, she jumped as two arms collapsed wearily on the rail beside her. "C-captain... I-I..."

"Beautiful, she is. The sea."

"...Beautiful indeed."

They stood for a moment in silence, watching the wind rock the waves.

"Can't sleep, luv?"

Cherise paused. "No, not really. I was... thinking."

"Wonderin' what the sea holds? If it hol's a piece of yourself?" He looked at her, his piercing eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Yeah... that's exactly what I have been afraid to ask."

He nodded knowingly. "Men search all their lives for somethin' right 'n front of their noses. Some never find it. It ain't easy as it looks."

Cherise gazed pensively into the distance before allowing herself to scrutinize the Captain's face. Charcoal-lined weary eyes, he had the look of a man who's been to the end of the world and back. "And you, Captain, have you found what you are looking for?"

For a moment, a kind of hesitation crept over him, only in the minutest ways gracing his features – had she not been so good at noticing things, she would've looked right past it, but his eyebrows furrowed momentarily and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. A few moments passed before he spoke. "Sometimes it's not about finding what you're looking for but about the looking itself. Maybe what you're really looking for is the looking, and in that way I guess you could say I've found what I was looking for, but..." He smirked (somewhat bitterly, Cherise thought, but decided not to mention it). "Once you find what you are looking for, you start wonderin' if there's something more you ought to be looking for, for if something more can be found, then it is certainly worth looking for, aye?"

"Definitely."

The captain turned his head, somewhat amused and somewhat surprised that she had followed all of that. Most people didn't. She held his gaze challengingly and he couldn't help but smirk even wider. "Y'know, for a lass, you're somewhat clever."

Cherise smiled and bounced into a somewhat comical curtsey. "I guess I'll take that as a form of distorted compliment."

He chuckled and tipped his hat slightly. "You'll need that, for tomorrow we be makin' port in Tortuga."

"Tortuga?" Her face instantly molded into dumbfounded astonishment.

"Aye, Tortuga." He winked and before she could bombard him with questions and objections, turned and walked briskly back to his cabin, ignoring her "buts" and "heys."

Cherise folded her arms. _Insufferable buffoon._ Unknown to herself, she smiled in a strangely affectionate way at the words.

Turning back toward the sea, she stared into the moonlit distance. The waves rocked, constant but ever-changing. The moon, even, could not penetrate into their mystifying depths. Jack was right; life was a journey, not a destination. The miles one would have to swim to get to the floor of the sea probably held just as much, if not more, than the bottom itself. She hummed quietly. If only one could know what to look for and where to find it. And suddenly, as if from within herself, words she never learned started attaching themselves to the melody.

_"Far beyond the sun-scorchéd shore_

_Where the em'rald waves implore_

_In the calm of moonlight's gaze_

_There the sea nymph plays..."_

She sung quietly and absent-mindedly, largely unaware that she was even singing words, but Jack watched her intently from the doorway of his cabin with apprehensive bewilderment. His eyes were wide and his brows deeply furrowed, mouth slightly agape in alarm, for he recognized that song. Surely it cannot be, he told himself. Every pirate knew the song, but Cherise was not a pirate, and furthermore, the words...

The words held the deepest secrets of the sea. The words had been lost for hundreds of years.

The implications of this were, frankly, too vast.


	4. Trinket

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, SC here. From now on, I'll be writing the story myself for a while. Just a heads up. Enjoy.  
Ohh, also, almost forgot. The song at the end of the chapter is to the tune playing in Davy Jones' locket.

**Chapter 4: Trinket**

The moment Cherise set foot on the ground in Tortuga, she had the dawning feeling her troubles were only beginning. Jack, on the other hand, walked ahead confidently, humming a common pirate tune. His gait almost had a small bounce to it, and Cherise could foretell why. Before her eyes stood the most disorganized town she had ever dreamed of staying away from. To her left, a small path led into the distance, barred on one side by cliffs and on the other by a palm tree forest. Just beyond the forest started the taverns, shops, and alleys, occupied by drunken laughter and an acrid stench of rum. Finally, to the right was a small port where the crew was now rushing to tie up the Black Pearl, the faster to get to the liberating elixir served by the welcoming hostesses.

In her abstraction, Cherise had lost track of her situation and consequently lost sight of Jack. She scanned the surroundings for a tall swaying figure and, sure enough, found him still walking down the street, almost to the first taverns. For the lack of another option, she ran after him.

"Jack!" she called, finally catching up. He swung around with a disoriented look.

"Hmm? Oh, you." His face seemed to come into focus with the realization. "Be a dear and stay in your cabin, savvy?" He promptly wheeled around again and resumed walking.

Cherise stared at him for a moment. "Wha... that's not fair! I'm coming with you!"

He raised an eyebrow as she caught up to him for the second time. "Didn' take you for one with a taste for rum..."

"I don't. Drink rum, that is."

"Oh. Then why are you still following me?"

"B-because..." Cherise paused. _Why am I still following him?_ "Because... uh... because, since you insist I journey with you on your boat," Jack stopped dead in his tracks. "—Ship! I meant ship. Since you insist I stay on your _ship_, I need supplies."

He recommenced his odd stride with a confused look on his face. "Like what?"

"Well... clothes, books, and some decent food, for one."

He chuckled. "Luv, you do not seriously expect there to be a bookstore in Tortuga, do you? Most of the people here don't even know how to read. But I suppose we'll see what we can do about the other two tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? We're staying here for the entire day?"

"Night, actually."

"Well... what am I to do here!"

"Like I said, get back to the ship and stay in your cabin. This is no place for a lass like you."

"I will not! Besides, if I leave, how are you to make sure I won't run away?" _The path by the cliffs... it had to lead somewhere where she could hide for the night, and then the next morning she could perhaps catch a decent, respectable ship to take her back to Port-Au-Prince. Yeah, right._

He motioned to the sparkling lights of the town, which they had now reached. "I trust you won't do that, luv, because Tortuga is a city you would not want to get lost in. However, since you insist on trailing me, do come into the tavern." He opened a heavy wooden door, poorly held together with a few bars of iron. "And watch yourself."

Cherise picked up her skirt and marched in with a resolute face, determined that she would not be tempted by the errant gratifications of pirate life. However, the moment her foot touched the ground in the establishment, she felt as if a wave of delirium had swept right through her and left her swaying in its open waters. Her ears numbed with the roar of laughter, off-key singing, and banging of various metal objects. She felt feverish; the air was thick with alcohol and choking perfumes and it all went straight to her head, making her stumble back at Jack. Fortunately, he was completely unfazed by the revelry and steadied her shoulders, speaking close to her ear so she could hear. "I told you to watch yourself, lassie. It's innocent ones like you who get seduced by the dark pleasures of Tortuga first. You sure you don't want to go back to that cabin?"

She swallowed hard and shook her head. Meanwhile, a stout-looking man with a maroon scarf around his head approached Jack with two jugs of beer. "Eey, if it ain' Jack Sparrow, me ol' mate!"

Jack let go of Cherise and greeted the man cheerfully. "Kotz, ha'nt seen you in ages! You still in the scouting business?"

"Aye, an' I'll tell ye, i's goin' good. Jus' the other day..." Cherise quickly tuned out of their conversation as they disappeared into the crowd. Hesitantly drifting to lean her back on a nearby pole, she watched the scene continue buzzing around her. In the middle, by the tables, was the self-proclaimed dance floor, and against the other wall was a small ensemble of musicians playing merry tributes to their own drunkenness. Over on the other side, a small bar with an extensive selection of bottles. Cherise noted a few barmaids in colorful skirts and sparse corsets, chemises slipping down their shoulders, bustling about the customers and flirting. When someone offered her a drink, she accepted absent-mindedly. The burning liquid slipped easily down her throat and mellowed her reflexes even further, while the music and occasional roars of laughter served to jolt her awake.

She barely acknowledged the tipsy breath on her throat until it spoke and snapped her out of her trance. "You gonna pay for that drink, lass? Or should I?"

"Oh!" She snapped her head in fright to look into a rough face contorted with a wicked grin and dropped the cup.

He laughed a repulsive chesty howl and towered above her, an oversized gold earring dangling in one of his ears. "'Ats the way it works 'round 'ere. I get ye somethin' you want," he paused and looked her up and down, "Ye get me somethin' I want..."

Cherise drew away as much as the pole behind her would allow. "I... I..."

"Wha's the matter, darlin'? Didn' anyone tell you nothin's e'er free?"

She felt her heart race as she gripped the pole behind herself. "I-I'm sorry... p-please..." she gulped, petrified. "S-surely another arrangement can be made..."

The man's eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Wench, don' you think 'bout skippin' out on me!"

She squirmed as his fingers dug into the flesh of her arm, too terrified to be repulsed by his damp breath on her skin or the weight of his revolting heap of a body pressing against her delicate frame. "No! No, please, d-don't..." As his sickening face advanced towards hers, she sunk down against the pole and turned away, shutting her eyes tightly. "I'm sorry..."

Suddenly, she heard a thud and felt his claws release her. She looked up, for the first time honestly glad to see a pirate's face. "Jack! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..."

Ignoring her, he turned the man over to face him from the floor. "Mate, the lady said 'no.'" With a quick swish, Jack's cutlass was pointing right to his throat as the drunken man eyed it in fear.

"C-captain Jack Sparrow." He swallowed and smirked. "I figured ye was already done wit' 'er."

The look in Jack's eyes, hidden from everyone but Cherise by his hat, burned with rage, which he carefully channeled and concentrated in the tip of his sword. Even through his swaying mode and posture, he was outright intimidating. "She happens to be important cargo and a key possession on the Black Pearl. If I catch your dirty paws on my property ever again..." he pressed the end of the sword menacingly into the man's throat. "...I will personally remove them, savvy?" With an angry huff, he put the cutlass away and the crowd gradually returned to its normal state.

Cherise didn't remember what happened next as her feet carried her down the road back toward the ocean. Somehow she had managed to slip away unnoticed and rushed toward the water. She felt hot tears burn at the back of her eyes. She reached the port and turned right, down the moonlit path she saw earlier. Anywhere was better than where she had just come from.

She kept running until she collapsed on the cold ground, exhausted, and saw the port not all too far away in the distance. She had only run a few hundred meters down the road, but couldn't think straight because of all the confusion. She hit the ground angrily with her fist and gave in to quiet sobs.

_'Property? Possession?'_ She hissed furiously, unable to shake the feeling that she'd just been brutally betrayed. '_He's a pirate. What did you expect? A bouquet of lilies?'_ More tears rushed to her eyes. _'But he seemed decent, if just for a moment. He did, after all, save me.'_ She clutched at her heart bitterly._ 'Yet I am nothing more than a trinket to him. He saved his asset. He said in time I will be of value to him! And I had almost begun to trust him...'_ Disgusted and crestfallen, she covered her face with her hands.

"Cherise --" She didn't need to lift her head -- she knew the voice. He had followed her here. "Come back immediately!"

She glared at him and stood, picking up her skirt defiantly. He waved, beckoning her from his place near the beginning of the path by the port. He was quite a distance away. Bitter and, though she wouldn't admit to herself, hurt, she turned on her heels and ran the other way as fast as she could.

"Cherise! Wait! _Damnit_."

She glanced over her shoulder to find that he had taken off after her and was quickly gaining. Nevertheless, she only clutched her skirt tighter and kept running.

"Bloody hell, STOP ALREADY!" Echoed his voice behind her.

Cherise fought to suppress her overwhelming emotions and channel her sorrow into sprinting faster, but he was undeniably stronger and quicker. It wasn't long before he was right on her heels.

"Lass, wait!"

"Stop chasing me!" she yelled angrily over her shoulder.

"I can't do that, so stop running away!"

She turned around to yell some more but had miscalculated how close behind her he was and was rapidly knocked off her feet. Still fuming, she struggled against the weight on top of her, scratching and beating it randomly with her fists. "Oh, that is just..." he caught her arms, "not very... nice..." He paused to flip his hair out of his eyes when she started to twist and turn violently, attempting to throw him off herself. They rolled over a few times in the dirt before she almost succeeded, but he managed to restrain her long enough to sit on top of her and pin her arms down by her sides. After seeing that her struggle was becoming fruitless, she gave up and lay still. Jack uttered an exasperated sigh of relief.

"You are starting to become more of a hassle than I imagined. Unfortunately, I still require your services, so I cannot simply _leave_ you here." He pursed his lips, annoyed. "Therefore, it would be of _much_ assistance to me and yourself if you would at least _attempt_ to cooperate." Here, he paused, noticing that her eyes were shut tightly and her cheeks glistened with tears. "Oy, what is it? Are you hurt?"

She only turned her head farther away.

He let go of her arms to gesture ostentatiously. "Luv, was it somethin' I said?"

She opened her eyes to glare at him and he shrank back, realizing that his joke had not come at a right time. After a few hiccupping breaths, she spoke coldly. "As a matter of fact, it was. I am not your _property_."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're mad about _that_. Would you rather be the property of that man in the tavern?"

It was her turn to avert her eyes.

"Look, luv, it's only pirate talk, but frankly you _are_ in my possession, in a way. Though rest assured, you are much more than simple property." He leaned forward to emphasize it. "_Much_ more than simple property."

Cherise felt cornered, staring back at a face that both threatened and protected her. For a moment, his features seemed to alleviate with an unexpected softness. What his words meant, she could not possibly know yet, but although he was not letting her free, she had the feeling she wasn't sure she wanted to run away anymore. Forthrightly, she felt attached, if only for that one moment until her mind kicked in, waving a big red flag. _'No... this is ridiculous! Cherise, wake up!'_ She turned away, and so did he, to get off her and stand up. It was over as quickly as it had come.

She reached out her hand and he pulled her to her feet. Immediately, pain shot through her forehead and everything began to spin. Finding it somewhat difficult to breathe, she swayed and fell so that he barely caught her. She blinked her eyes in confusion.

"I don't understand..." it was a strain to focus on speaking coherently. "What's happening to me?"

He looked at her seriously for a moment, then touched the back of his hand to her burning cheeks. Nodding, he replied knowingly, "How much did you drink?"

She struggled to hold herself upright and remember the events of the night. "A... cup?"

He chuckled in a kind of cheerless sympathetic amusement. "And I take it you've never drunk rum before."

She shook her head in confirmation.

"It'll be one hell of a morning tomorrow," he muttered under his breath. With a sigh, he picked her up, ignoring a surprised gasp and a resulting groan as her hand shot up to her forehead. Swaying slightly from side to side as usual, he began walking back to Tortuga, humming under his breath.


End file.
